


Pinch Me, I'm Concussed.

by until_the_earth_is_free



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Bittersweet, Canon Compliant, Concussions, M/M, Poor Charles, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 13:49:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8016466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/until_the_earth_is_free/pseuds/until_the_earth_is_free
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles gets a concussion and, consequently, makes Erik confront his feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pinch Me, I'm Concussed.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heyjupiter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyjupiter/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Little White Horsies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/329628) by [heyjupiter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyjupiter/pseuds/heyjupiter). 



> Hi heyjupiter! I hope you enjoy my little fic x

 

 

 

 

The moment Charles opened his eyes, his head started pounding. So he quickly closed them again.

"Wake up, Charles!" said a familiar female voice, higher than usual. "You have to stay awake."

"I'm not sleeping," he said, petulantly, as he rolled over and tried to find a comfortable position to go to sleep in. How had he ended up on this cold tiled floor anyway?

"Raven's right," said another, lower voice. "You have a pretty bad concussion, Charles, and it's not a good idea for you to go to sleep now."

"I'm not- AAAAH!"

The dark, throbbing pain in Charles' head was suddenly replaced with a sharp stabbing sensation in his right thigh. Instinctively, he opened his eyes, to see Erik Lehnsherr crouching over him with a grin.

"Stay awake," Erik said.

"Did you just pinch me?" Charles gasped.

Erik just kept grinning.

"Charles, do you know what the date is?" a voice, probably Hank, asked.

Charles turned to look at the owner of the voice behind him, but even the slightest movement was making his eyes roll back with nausea.

He groaned.

"It must be, what, the seventh today?" he mumbled, covering his face with a hand.

"And do you remember what just happened?" Hank continued.

"Well, Erik just pinched me in the bloody leg, didn't he!"

Erik chuckled.

"Sod off," Charles moaned through his fingers. "All of you sod off right now. Let me sleep in peace."

"Charles," implored Hank. "You are concussed and need to stay awake, at least until I can ascertain the level of risk. Cerebro gave you a nasty turn."

"Cerebro?" Charles exclaimed, taking his hand away from his face and looking anxiously at Erik. "Did something go wrong with the trial run? I can't seem to remember at all.

"I'll say," said Raven, from his left. "You were so excited to fry your brain in that machine that you yanked the helmet down too hard and gave yourself a concussion."

Charles blinked.

"Seriously?"

He watched Erik pinch his lips together like he was trying not to laugh.

Charles blushed, and then felt extraordinarily ill.

"Oh dear," he said, swallowing heavily. "Raven, fetch me a basin, would you please?"

Raven jumped up, as if to fulfil Charles' request, but she was beaten to it by Erik, who simply held out a hand and caught a iron pot zooming across the room from God knows where. He placed the pot in front of Charles and politely averted his gaze.

"Thank you," said Charles, graciously, before throwing up, neatly and efficiently, into the pot.

"Erik, Raven," Hank said, while Charles delicately wiped his mouth with one of his shirt tails. "Could we please take a moment?"

Much like during a hangover, throwing up had quelled most of his nausea, but Charles' headache was still stubbornly present, like a wet rolled-up newspaper clogging up his brain and muffling all of his thoughts. Through the heaviness in his head, he heard the clear thoughts of Hank, Raven and Erik's conversation from outside.

"We need to keep him awake and under constant supervision for at least the next two hours," Hank was saying in a low voice. "And, since I have to go let Moira know what's going on, Erik, you'll have to look after him."

"What about Raven?" Erik demanded.

"I have stuff to do," she retorted. "You don't."

Charles could feel indignation rise in Erik like bubbles in champagne.

"I didn't agree to help the CIA so I could babysit a concussed telepath," he said.

Charles wrinkled his nose. That was hurtful.

A few moments later, the three mutants came back into his line of sight, guilt rolling off of Hank and annoyed disbelief radiating from Erik.

"You know, I can hear everything you think and say," Charles told them.

"You shouldn't be reading our thoughts, Charles," Raven admonished.

"Well, then, stop having such readable thoughts, Raven," Charles replied, in what he thought was a pretty good comeback.

Erik rolled his eyes.

"He's concussed," Hank reminded Raven. "He'll probably be like this for the next hour or so."

"Actually," said Charles. "Telepathy is genetic. I'll probably be like this for the rest of my life."

 

 

A few minutes later, Charles and Erik were walking out of the Cerebro dome and out into the bright summer air. This was something of an overstatement: Erik was walking, and Charles was leaning heavily on Erik because apparently the brain injury had affected the man's legs. Erik was, however, not in an appropriate frame of mind to argue with Charles right now, as the dome's walls were giving Charles a headache, which, in turn, was giving Erik a headache. The whole thing was complicated and painful.

Erik had just assumed they'd be heading back to the living quarters, where he would no doubt be preventing Charles from falling on various beds and sofas, but, when they had walked just a few yards outside, Charles let go of Erik's shoulders and practically collapsed to the grassy ground.

"What are you doing, Charles?" Erik asked, with uncharacteristic patience.

"I'm tired, Erik," Charles moaned. "Let's have a nap."

"Do you want to get pinched again?" asked Erik, with much more characteristic exasperation.

"No," said Charles, pouting.

"Alright then," said Erik.  
Charles didn't make any sign of moving from where he was sitting, legs splayed like a teddy bear.

Erik sighed and sat down on the grass next to Charles. At least there was good weather and the grass was tolerably soft.

"Erik," said Charles.

"Yes, Charles," Erik replied.

"This is good fun."

"What is?" Erik asked, expecting some sappy British remark about how nice the weather was.

"Being concussed," said Charles.

Erik frowned.

"What?"

"My head hurts," said Charles. "But everything feels open. I feel free."

Erik opened his mouth, but found that he had nothing to say.

"I don't know," said Charles. "I guess I just have less to worry about now."

Erik bit the inside of his cheek. This seemed like an odd reaction to light traumatic brain injury.

Charles started giggling.

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" he said, bouncing his head with each bright laugh.

After Charles' giggles had trickled away into the sunlight, they sat in silence for a few moments.

Then,

"Erik!"

"What is it, Charles?" Erik asked wryly.

"That cloud!" Charles exclaimed, waving a hand upwards. "It looks like a pumpkin!"

"I suppose it does," mused Erik, looking up at the misshapen cloud.

"Do you like pumpkins, Erik?" Charles asked, lowering his hand and turning his gaze on Erik.

"I don't know," replied Erik, honestly.

Charles blinked.

"Oh Erik," he said, softly. "You're so brave."

"Uh, thank you, I suppose," Erik said, awkwardly. How on earth was someone supposed to reply to that?

There were a few more moments of silence.

"I shall miss this a lot," Charles said, suddenly.

"What, being concussed?" asked Erik, smirking.

"Being here," Charles corrected. "With you."

"Oh," said Erik.

"While concussed," Charles clarified.

"Oh," said Erik again.

Charles gave Erik a long, searching look.

"I know you're thinking of leaving," he said, seriously.

Erik blinked.

"Yes," he said. There was no use in denying it.

Charles looked down, forlornly.

"I wish you wouldn't."

"You could always make me stay," said Erik.

"Yes," said Charles, plainly. "Quite easily. But the difficult part is always making someone want to stay, don't you think?"

"I'm sure you could find a way," said Erik, his mouth suddenly dry.

Charles sighed.

"I do hope so, my friend."

They looked at each other, thoughtfully, for a second, before Erik cleared his throat and Charles looked suddenly to the ground and started plucking at the weeds.

Erik watched him: Charles' freckled hands twisting at the dandelion leaves, Charles' pale knuckles growing paler as they pulled at the stems of the weeds, the green smudges across the pads of Charles' slender fingers.

Erik sighed.

He almost missed the slight quirk of Charles' lips and the light catch in the other man's throat, most likely from overhearing Erik's sudden, quiet decision to stay.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> transcharlesxavier.tumblr.com


End file.
